Chapter Text

Day 1/2/3: Candles/Scent, Fade/Home, Rook/Lucanis

Watching Lucanis move around in the pantry, Spite inhales the smells of the herbs, the scent of his coffee and the tang of his exhaustion. He doesn’t listen to me, to Spite. pushing himself to the brink, never resting, always there. He breaks our agreement.

Whenever we are alone, he goes there. The smell of sand, of salt water held back by magic. The iron of blood, both fresh and old. Her scent is rotted and bitter, just like the one he calls brother in his heart. That one’s scent is bitter with Envy, with jealousy.

The prison, the Ossuary, it clings to him. I try to get him to see, to get him to go to Rook. Rook freed us before, they can free us now. But he is stubborn, spiteful to Spite. He goes to bone mage to silence Spite, where the scent of frankincense, myrrh and bone dust is strongest. Spite is not comfortable when he does that, bone mage’s magic disorienting when it silences Spite.

Lucanis brightens when Rook comes around, though he doesn’t act. Rook is the smell of roses, of forests after a rainfall, the force of paprika and sweetness of honey. Spite wants as much as Lucanis wants, but he denies. Rook wants, give touches that don’t hurt, smiles only for us.

Rook is home, but Lucanis is blind to that. He keeps us there, chained with fear and shame. He wants, Spite wants, we want Rook to see, to free us.

Rook is safety, the warmth of the hearth, and as fierce as the wyverns Lucanis is enthralled by. Rook worries, Spite knows this, sees it plain on their face. They hide it when around the others, around the flock. But the Crow pair show hidden worry as well, they pull Rook to the side to talk. Spite knows they talk about Lucanis.

They are right to worry, Lucanis is worrying Spite. Pain, expectations, memories and dreams, they are tearing his mind apart. He hurts and hurts, but doesn’t seek help. Doesn’t seek Rook.

Rook helps, doesn’t hurt, never hurts us.

Written by a human in Ellipsus.